


Pretending

by Cade Welentine (cadewelentine)



Series: The MA College AU that Nobody Asked For [9]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Repression, F/M, Lovely, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Overbearing Mother, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadewelentine/pseuds/Cade%20Welentine
Summary: If Trina was asked to fill out a resume at this very moment, the first thing she would list under “special skills” would be “pretending”, because she is really excellent at it.





	Pretending

**Author's Note:**

> Back with just what you all want after those last two installments: a Trina fic with some mild Trindel!  
> If all goes according to my plan, the next fic should have a little Whizzvin in it, so don't worry--some resolution to that tension will be coming.  
> For now, enjoy this fic, which was inspired by the song "Where's the Bathroom?" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and please leave kudos and comments if you do. <3

If Trina was asked to fill out a resume at this very moment, the first thing she would list under “special skills” would be “pretending”, because she is really excellent at it. She’s excellent at pretending she’s not bothered by Marvin’s lack of interest in their weekly chats. She’s excellent at pretending that she’s not worried about Whizzer, who hasn’t been heard from in a week and half, and who has, according to Cordelia, his _best friend_ , effectively gone missing. And, perhaps most importantly, she’s excellent at pretending that she and Mendel have never kissed, and there are no feelings between them besides those that exist between platonic friends--she’s excellent at pretending that Marvin is enough for her, that he makes her happy.

And at this very moment, she is excellently pretending that there’s nothing suggestive about the way she is helping Mendel with his physical therapy. This is easier than she expected, because his exercises are not the very-nearly-entirely-explicit ones she saw on the internet; instead, they most involve her pushing back on his foot and helping him to stretch his leg out. He’s had his cast off for two weeks now, but watching him walk, one would guess he’s only had it off for two minutes.

“I really appreciate this.” Mendel says from his position on the floor of her dorm room. “I know you must have finals to study for.”

“It’s fine.” Trina says with a smile, because it _is_ fine. “It’s a welcome break, honestly.”

Mendel smiles and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Trina’s phone makes a shrill and almost angry noise. She checks it and immediately blanches.

“What?” Mendel asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“My _mother_ is on her way up the stairs.”

“Wait--what?” Mendel asks this just as a dainty knock is heard from the door to Trina’s dorm. She drops his leg suddenly, and he shouts.

“Get up, get up, get _up_!” Trina hisses, frantically straightening knick-knacks and tchotchkes in an attempt to make her already meticulously tidy room seem even tidier. There’s another, somewhat-less-dainty knock at the door, and Trina pulls it open. Her mother glides through the doorway like she’s Patti LuPone striding onto a Broadway stage.

“Trina! Darling!” She cries, handing Trina her jacket. Her mother is always dressed to the nines, no matter the occasion or weather. Today, for instance, she’s decked out in a skirt suit with a matching hat that would make Jackie O jealous.

“Hello, Mother.” Trina says, setting her mother’s jacket down on her bed.

Her mother notices Mendel then. He’s standing in the corner, trying his best to hide.

“Oh!” She cries, striding across the room and taking his face in her hands; Trina is screaming internally. “You’re with the Weisenbachfeld boy now? Good. I always thought you two would be good together, and I’ve always preferred him to that _Marvin_ \--”

“Oh, I’m not- we’re not-” Mendel’s stuttering, and he looks quite like a baby deer who’s been caught in headlights.

“I’m still with Marvin, Mother.” Trina cuts in quickly, joining them and taking her mother’s arm and spinning her around. “Mendel and I are just friends.” She puts a bit of emphasis on this, because she’s trying to convince herself of that just as much as her mother.  

“Ah? Well, that’s your loss, dear.”

Trina rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know, but I--”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

Trina has not missed _this_. She hasn’t missed being interrupted and talked over, not by Marvin, not by her mother.

“I need to use the bathroom--please tell me that you have a bathroom in this hovel you call ‘home’.” Her mother goes on.

“It’s down the hall.” Trina offers, pointing her mother toward the door. Of course, her mother doesn’t hear her, because she’s too busy inspecting the contents of Trina’s dorm.

“Oh, there’s that lotion that I bought you; are you using it? If you’re not using it, I’ll take it back. Mrs. DuBois was interested in trying it out, I can give it to her.” Her mother remarks. “Hmm, I don’t know if I would have picked _that_ lampshade to go with _this_ bedspread--”

“ _You_ picked it out!”

“--but aside from that, this place is... _lovely_.”

Trina practically winces at that; from across the room, she can see Mendel cock his head to the side. She shakes her head, but he still watches her intently.

Trina loves “lovely”. She strives for “lovely”. She asks for “lovely” at all times. If anyone else had called her room “lovely”, her heart would have soared. But her mother never meant “lovely” as a compliment; when her mother described something as “lovely”, it was in the way that one describes a small child’s pitiful attempt at something “cute”; it makes her heart sink and her stomach go sour.

But Trina pretends. She pretends that her mother means it the way that other mothers would. She pretends to take it as a compliment--or at least, if she pretends that if she’s taking it as an insult, she’s taking it in stride. She pretends that she didn’t already tell her mother where the bathroom is when she’s asked again.

For the rest of her mother’s visit, Trina pretends.

“What _was_ that?” Mendel asks her,sitting on the edge of her bed once her mother is gone for the night--though she’s staying at an inn downtown, and promises she’ll be back tomorrow, so Trina’s no more at ease than before. She’s grateful that he stayed, that he was around to keep her sane and bear witness to the human hurricane that is her mother.

“My mother.” Trina says with a sigh, sitting down beside him.

“No, no,” Mendel shakes his head. “I meant with you. One second you looked like you were going to cry, and then the next you were--you were totally fine.”

“Oh.” Trina says softly, not trying to pretend anymore. “That was...that was just me, doing what I’m best at.”

Mendel cocks his head to side again. “Are you okay?”

The question is so genuine, so sweet, that Trina almost bursts into tears. But instead, she just smiles--a small, delicate thing--and rests her head on Mendel’s shoulder.

“Of course I am. I’m with you--why wouldn’t I be?”


End file.
